Best Friends
by ScottishBlueDragon
Summary: John and Sherlock have known each other since they were kids. And Sherlock has to deal with John coming home from war and everyone in Scotland Yard learning that Sherlock is human.
1. How They Met

HOW THEY MET

Chapter One

Disclaimer: I wish I owned Sherlock, but I do not.

A nine year old John Watson was sitting in the park, his big sister, Harriet (Harry), aged eleven, was running around and jumping on and off the climbing frame. John, himself, was reading a book as part his homework from the school around the corner.

"Sherlock, don't run off to far, you might insult someone and mummy can't get us out of that again - that poor woman, or was it a man?" a teenage boy said a little down from path, he looked to be around fifteen. He was holding onto a five year old boys shoulder, the boy was glaring at him.

"I'll be fine, Mycroft, I was four at the time" said Sherlock as he shrugged off Mycroft's arm and wandered away.

John put his had back into his book until he felt Sherlock's presences, reading the book over his shoulder.

"Yes?" John asked, blinking at Sherlock.

"Your the son of a Captain in the army. He's home and you and your sister, who is a gay, got sent out the house so that he and your mother can have private time. You want to be a medical man, but you also want to be in the army like your father, so you are thinking of becoming an Army Doctor" Sherlock said, looking at John.

"How did you..." muttered John. Sherlock pulled himself onto the bench that John was sitting on.

"Easy, you look uncomfortable here, and your wearing a army jacket that is too big on you - your Dad's in the army and has come home. The fact that you are reading a medical book suggests you want to go into medicine, but because you are wearing your father's jacket suggests that your wish to be in the Army, compromise, an Army Doctor" Sherlock said.

"Okay, and what about my sister?"

"You keep looking at her, and she has the same face - roughly - as you, a sister. And the fact that she has stared at every girl that walks past, over the age of fourteen, suggests that's she's gay, but hasn't told anyone yet as it is only a peek."

"That's..." began John, staring wide eyed at Sherlock. Sherlock was staring at his feet.

"Irritating, annoying" he suggested.

"Amazing."

Sherlock looked up at John, and saw that he was telling the truth.

"Your the first person to think that" he said.

"But why, that is amazing. Only difference is that it was my mother who came back from the army" said John.

"Mistakes are mistakes. Dull."

"Yeah, I guess that they are dull" said John and he jumped when he felt his mum's mobile vibrate from his pocket.

He opened it to see a text from his mum saying that he and Harry were to come home.

"Meet me here tomorrow" John said to Sherlock. Sherlock blinked.

"You want to be my friend?" he asked.

"Yeah, and I can find out more about you" smiled John before he stood up, and yelled Harry.

As Harry was running over, John turned to Sherlock.

"My name's John, John Watson" he said as he jumped down from the bench.

"Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes" answered Sherlock, eyes still wide in shock.

"See you tomorrow" smiled John, and he started to walk away with his sister, who stared back to Sherlock.

Once John was out of sight, Mycroft appeared beside Sherlock.

"Who was that?" he asked.

"My friend, John" said Sherlock.

"Do you think he'll be a good friend?" asked Mycroft.

"He found me amazing."


	2. John Meets The Holmes

JOHN MEETS THE HOLMES

Chapter Two

Disclaimer: Do not own Sherlock.

* * *

Mycroft took Sherlock home - who was happier than usual - and called for Mummy and Father. Both came and saw their youngest son smiling, a true smile.

"Was the park nice?" Sherlock's mother asked.

"Sherlock made a friend" Mycroft said and both of their parents eyes went wide.

"A friend?" his father asked.

"Yes, their planning on meeting up tomorrow" said Mycroft. Sherlock glared at him.

"Is it okay if I go upstairs mummy, John might want to come here. It's raining tomorrow" said Sherlock. His mother nodded and Sherlock ran off.

"So, what's John like?" asked his father. Mycroft shrugged.

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John ran downstairs, excitement in every step.

"Mummy, can I go to the park?" asked John as he slid into the kitchen. His face fell when he saw the rain outside.

"I'm sorry, darling" said his mum.

"Maybe I can go to the park to meet up with Sherlock and go to his house" said John.

"Fine, be ready in half an hour, and dress up in your rain gear" said his mother, "who's Sherlock?"

"Is he that freak you met yesterday?" asked Harry. John glared at her.

"He's not a freak" he said before running upstairs to get ready.

Half an hour later, John and his mother walked side by side to the park. When they arrived there, they saw Sherlock standing with Mycroft under an umbrella. Sherlock smiled when he saw John approaching.

"John!" he shouted in delight and escaped from under his brother's protected to hug the soaking John.

"Your Sherlock" said his mother.

"Yes Mrs Watson, would it be okay for John to come to my house, it's really not that far away" said Sherlock. John felt a mobile being handed to him.

"Yes, he needs to be home by four" said Mrs Watson, she smiled to John and walked away.

"Text me every hour" she shouted back.

"Yes Mum" said John and he allowed Sherlock to pull him under Mycroft's umbrella.

"Mycroft, John. John, Mycroft" said Sherlock. Mycroft arched an eyebrow.

"Pleasure to meet you" said Mycroft, shaking John's hand.

"You too" said John.

"Come on John, lets go to my house" said Sherlock, and they left the park to go to the house.

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John was dragged into the Holmes house by a eager Sherlock. His mother and father were waiting for them.

"You must be John" said Sherlock's mother.

"Yes" smiled John, "it's nice to meet you."

Sherlock grabbed John's shoulders and started to pull his coat off. John let him.

"Mummy, can we go to my room?" Sherlock asked. His mother said yes. They last thing they heard as the two boys went upstairs was.

"So, what could you tell from my mum?" coming from John and Sherlock's laugh.

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They had lunch around one, and Sherlock's mother and father were thrilled that Sherlock had found someone who likes him for being himself.

Time came too soon and it was nearing four.

"Mummy, can you give John a lift to his house?" Sherlock as his mother while she read the papers.

"Certainly" said his mother, she stood up and the two boys followed her to her car, grabbing John's stuff on their way.

Sherlock and John climbed into the back seat and were talking the entire way there (John had already given Mrs Holmes the directions) and soon pulled up out John's house.

"John, would it be okay if I came in to talk to your parents?" Mrs Holmes asked.

"I'm sure it would be okay" said John and he lead them to his front door. Mrs Holmes knocked and Mrs Watson answered.

"John" she smiled, and she looked up, "you must be Sherlock's mother."

"Yes, I was wondering if we could come in to talk" said Mrs Holmes.

"Of course" said Mrs Watson and she moved to allow them in.

Sherlock and John were sent to John's room.

Their mothers had an hour long conversation, but after that the two boys were inseparable. A spare bed had been moved in both boys room (courtesy of the Holmes). John still went to public school and Sherlock was still home schooled, but instead of John going to his sisters friends house, Mr Holmes was always outside the school, ready to pick John up.

Sherlock was there when John's mother died in the war.

John was there whenever Sherlock's experiments failed - he helped clean up the mess.

As they got older, they seemed to get closer.

Eventually, the time came for John to complete his dream and for Sherlock to looked for his dream.


	3. Goodbye John

GOODBYE JOHN

Chapter Three

Disclaimer : I own Sherlock, only joking, if I owned Sherlock there will be more episodes in the series.

* * *

John and Sherlock bought a flat together, a month before John was due to be sent out to war. John is now twenty four. Sherlock is now twenty, and is helping Scotland Yard with their cases - although it is only through phones, Sherlock doesn't want to waste a moment with John.

Sherlock's mum had been friends with a Mrs Hudson from school, and she gave them a flat cheap. Sherlock suspected that his brother paid up the rest. He doesn't care though, he got a nice flat and he shares it with his best friend in the whole world.

John came running down the stairs, after three hours of organising his room.

"Okay, so lets go over this again. We will email as much as possible" said Sherlock.

"I know, you say this everytime you see me. It's become your new hello" said John, Sherlock shook his head.

"I'm really going to miss you" he said.

"I'll miss you too" said John, and he pulled Sherlock in for a hug.

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The month went by really quickly, and John was standing at the airport, in his uniform. Mycroft and Sherlock were standing there, saying goodbye.

"You better write every day" said Sherlock, pointing right into John's face.

John nodded.

"I'll try" he said. Sherlock sighed. He had been preparing for this for years, ever since they met, but he could not think of what to say.

As a laugh, Sherlock saluted, standing tall and straight. Mycroft breathed deeply as John saluted back.

"Mycroft will be paying for my half of the flat until I return. Mrs Hudson has promised to look after you. And I know that DI Lestrange has agreed to start taking you to the scenes. I also understand that you want to keep me a secret, to appear inhuman to them, go ahead, I would love to see their faces if I got back and they realised that you have a best friend" said John.

"Not if, when" said Sherlock, his blue eyes suddenly cy cold.

"What?"

"When you come back, in one piece" said Sherlock.

"Yes, one piece" agreed John, they heard his flight being called for boarding.

"Write you soon" said John. Sherlock smiled.

"Write you soon" he promised. John turned to Mycroft.

"Look after him" and Mycroft nodded. John turned and went to board his plane, but before he turned the corner, John turn to look back and smile.

Sherlock smiled and watched John as he disappeared. Sherlock turned to leave.

"Where are you going?" asked Mycroft.

"I have a letter to write and a decapitation to solve!"


	4. Seven Years Later

SEVEN YEARS LATER

Chapter Four

Disclaimer : I do not own Sherlock.

Seven years have passed since John and Sherlock spent more than two weeks in each others company. Letters were sent almost all the time but to either of the two men it was not enough.

Sherlock stood over a dead body. That was not unusual. He just solved the case. That was also not unusual. The thing that was unusual was his phone got a text. Sherlock has two phones, one for cases - which was always used - and one for his family and friend.

Curious, he lifted the phone from his pocket and saw text from Mycroft.

JOHN BEEN SHOT. NEED PICKED UP FROM AIRPORT IN HALF AN HOUR. MH

"Is this case done?" Sherlock asked, getting many strange looks from the others at the crime scene at his scared but happy face. Lestrange nodded.

"Can you give me a lift to the airport?" Sherlock asked.

"Why?" asked Anderson. Sherlock ignored him and looked at Greg.

"Please" he said.

"Sally can handle the paperwork, c'mon" and Sherlock followed Greg to his car.

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"Why are we here?" Greg asked, as he and Sherlock stood in the airport.

"I'm waiting on someone" said Sherlock.

"Who?" asked Greg. A collection of people were trailing in from a recently landed aeroplane.

"Him" said Sherlock, a smile on his lips and worry in his eyes. He walked away from Greg, and towards a man in army clothes, on a cane and a smile on his face.

Greg watched, shocked, as Sherlock carefully hugged the man before grabbing his bags and slowly walking over to Greg.

"DI Lestrange, this is Captain Jack Watson, John, this is Greg" said Sherlock. John held out a hand and Greg shook it.

"It's nice to meet you" said John as he pulled his hand back, clenched it, unclenched it and leaned a little more on his cane.

"Can we go home now, Sherlock, I'm a little tired" said John. Sherlock nodded and nodded to Greg to lead the way, and with a confused frown on his face, Greg turned and they lead the way out the airport and to his car.

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After helping Sherlock carefully carry a nearly asleep soilder up 221B Baker Street and into his bed. John fell asleep at once, Sherlock carefully removed his shoes and jacket and tucked him in, Greg returned to his office and was attacked by Sally and Anderson.

"Why did the Freak want to go to the airport?" asked Sally, "did he finally realise that no one wants to be his friend and left the country?"

"No" said Greg, staring at Anderson and Sally.

"Well, spill" said Anderson.

"He was collecting a friend, he says" said Greg.

"Sherlock Holmes has a friend?" asked Sally.


	5. Settling In

SETTLING IN

Chapter Five

John woke up the next morning, well rested as he limped downstairs with his cane and collapsed onto his seat. Sherlock looked up from his book and smiled.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Bloody great" muttered John under his breath.

"You were shot in the left shoulder" said Sherlock. John glared playfully at him.

"I know, I was there" said John. He reached into his suitcase, which Sherlock had left downstairs.

"I know you've been through my suitcase, now there was a black book in it, where did you put it?" asked John. Sherlock smiled and pointed to the book in his hand.

"So, you've a therapist?" asked Sherlock.

"Yep, nearly sent me to a home for invalided home soldiers until they realised that I already had a flat" laughed John.

"Their therapist is going to be useless, you know that" said Sherlock.

"Yep" sighed John as he lay back in his chair.

"Lestrade, the man you met yesterday, said that he won't bother me with cases for at least a week, you know, so we can catch up" said Sherlock, rolling his eyes.

"I guess you didn't tell him that us spending quality time together is chasing after a bully in the playground" said John.

"He would not believe me when I say that there is someone out there who is more into the chase than me. I do the brainy things and you did the chasing" laughed Sherlock.

"How's Mycroft?" asked John.

"Irritating" answered Sherlock, "tea?"

"If you offering, I'd say no" said John. Sherlock glared and got up to make some tea.

"Imagine that, war hero Watson survived bombs and bullets, was taken down by a cup of tea" said Sherlock. John snorted.

"Headline papers. I wanna place a bet" said John as Sherlock finished making the tea and handed him a cup.

"What kind of bet?" asked Sherlock, settling down in his chair.

"I can make you famous" said John.

"Alright, if you win the bet, I'll wear any hat you pick out" said Sherlock.

"And if I lose?" asked John.

"I'll think of something" smirked Sherlock over a cup of tea.

John smiled back at him.

And nearly chocked on his tea.


	6. Study In Pink (1)

"How's your blog going?" John's therapist asked, leaning over her clipboard to look at the man across from her.

"Yeah, good, very good" lied John.

"You haven't written a word, have you?" she smiled, she was about to put pen to paper. John stopped her.

"It will pick up soon" he said, thee therapist stopped and looked at her patient.

"My mate's life is insane and starting tomorrow, it'll pick up. I am going to start tomorrow" said John.

"And what does this insane life entail?" asked the Therapist, her eyebrow raised.

"You'll just have to wait and see" smirked John.

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Sherlock sat in the reception chairs, waiting for John to leave his appointment. His phone dinged, and ignoring the glares from everyone else in the room, he checked the text message.

DEAD BODY IN. MH xx

Sherlock smiled and settled back down to wait for John. Five minutes later, John limped out the office, leaning heavily on the cane. He smiled at Sherlock as he stood up.

"There's a new body in the morgue. Do you want to head over?" Sherlock asked as both of them headed out the doctors.

"You get ahead. I need to clear my head, just walk to Barts" said John. Sherlock nodded, smirked and winked and quickly climbed into a nearby taxi. John sighed and stared the half hour walk there.

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John had reached the park near the hospital where he was stopped. Sure, many people stared but John ignored them, he was half ready to ignore the man on the bench who stared at him until he was called by his name.

"John! John Watson! Stamford, Mike Stamford. We were at Barts together." Politely, John shook Mike's hand.

"Yes, sorry, yes, Mike, hello" he said. He really wanted to get back to Sherlock - who was sure to be waiting for him.

"Yes, I know, I got fat" joked Mike, John felt really awkward.

"No, no" argued John.

"I heard you were abroad somewhere getting shot at. What happened?" Mike was trying to make conversation, all John wanted to do was get back to Sherlock before he insulted someone, and made them cry. John wondered how Sherlock survived with him to apologize for Sherlock.

"I got shot," said John bluntly, "are you still at Barts then?"

"Teaching now," explained Mike, "yeah, bright young things like we used to be. God, I hate them. What about you, just staying in town till you get yourself sorted?" They were slowly moving to the bench Mike was sitting at before.

"Actually no, I'm staying with Sherlock at the flat we bought before I left" said John.

"That's great! Where are you heading?" asked Mike.

"To Bart's actually, meeting Sherlock there" said John. He made to stand up.

"Walk you there, I've actually got a lecture later and need to get ready" said Mike. He stood up and they both started to walk there.

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Sherlock was in the lab when John arrived. Mike had left to go and deal with his lecture. John shook his head as he took a seat next to Sherlock.

"So, how's Mike?" asked Sherlock. John didn't even ask how Sherlock knew.

"Fat" commented John, causing Sherlock to snort. He looked up as the door opened and a young girl walked. She was holding coffee.

"Ah, Molly, coffee" said Sherlock as he stood. He collected the coffee, took a gulp before handing it to John.

"What happened to the lipstick?" he asked as he sat down.

"Thought it was too much" said Molly, staring at John in shock.

"Molly, John, John, Molly" said Sherlock as unfolded his jacket.

"Hiya" said Molly, accepting his hand shake.

"Hello" smiled John. Sherlock quickly put his jacket on and his scarf.

"Sorry, we must rush. John and I need to get home, Mrs Hudson is more than likely to discover the thumbs sooner or later" smiled Sherlock. His smile was true, shocking Molly who only saw him smirk.

"You two live together?" asked Molly.

"We have been best friends since we were children" said Sherlock and he walked out.

"Best friends?" muttered Molly.

"It's nice to meet you, don't worry, the shock wears away soon enough" said John and, lifting his cane and limping away, he left the girl standing there.

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"What about these suicides then, Sherlock?" asked Mrs Hudson as the three of them sat in the living room of 221B Baker Street the next day, and Sherlock was looking for a thrill, "I thought that'd be right up your street. Three exactly the same."

"Four" said Sherlock as blue an red flashing lights reflecting in the window and he went to look, "there's been a fourth."

"A fourth?" asked Mrs Hudson, her hand over her heart.

"Where?" Sherlock turned and asked DI Greg Lestrade when he ran through the door.

"Brixton, Lauriston Gardens" replied the out of breath detective, "will you come?"

"Is there anything different, you seem a little more excited than before, like you just got a big break?" asked Sherlock.

"You know how they never leave notes?" asked Greg. Sherlock nodded.

"This one did."

"Who's on forensics?" asked Sherlock.

"Anderson." To the shock of Greg, Sherlock swore under his breath.

"He doesn't work well with me."

"Well, he won't be your assistant" said Greg.

"I NEED an assistant" said Sherlock then he looked over and John and the two men smirked.

"Will you come?" Greg asked, wondering about the smirks.

"Not in a police car, I'll be right behind" answered Sherlock, looking back at Greg.

"Thank you" said Greg and he ran back out. They waited until they could hear the police car outside drive away. Sherlock then started to jump around.

"Brilliant!" he yelled. "Yes! Four serial suicides, and now a note. Oh, it's Christmas. Mrs Hudson, we'll be late. Might need some food."

"We?" asked Mrs Hudson.

"Yes, myself and John, that is if he is coming with me?" asked Sherlock. He looked at John.

"I need something to put on my bloody blog" said John as he stood up.

"So, about food when we come back..." began Sherlock but Mrs Hudson interrupted.

"I'm your landlady, dear, not your housekeeper" she said, her hands on her hips. Both men spoke at the same time.

"Cup of tea'd be lovely." "If it's cold, it's fine."

And the two of them left, Mrs Hudson shouting after them - "not your housekeeper!"

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The police car pulled up at the crime scene. Greg quickly ran out the car and to the police tape.

"Sally, Sherlock's on his way" said Greg as he ducked under the tape. Sally pulled a face.

"Why? A week without, I thought you had finally dropped him" said Sally.

"Yeah, I gave him the week so that he and whoever it was that we picked up from the airport could bond" said Greg.

"Was his apparent friend there, although I still think it was kidnap" said Sally

"Yeah, he was there" said Greg and he walked into the building holding the building.

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Sally saw the taxi pull up and Sherlock climb out.

"Hello, freak!" she called and tried to not stare at a second person climbing out of the taxi, after paying.

"I'm here to see Detective Inspector Lestrade" said Sherlock, reaching the tape.

"Why?" asked Sally, narrowing her eyes.

"I was invited" said Sherlock, he raised his head a little.

"Why?"

"I think he wants me to take a look" said Sherlock sarcastic, Sally nearly stopped, since when did Sherlock Holmes speak more human than before.

"Well, you know what I think, don't you?" asked Sally.

"Always Sally," smiled Sherlock, "I even know you didn't make it home last night."

"I don't... Who's this?" Sally had finally given up and asked about John, who was standing next to Sherlock, looking around.

"Friend of mine, Dr Watson. Dr Watson, Sergeant Sally Donovan" said Sherlock.

"A friend?" asked Sally, raising her eyebrow. "How do _you_ get a friend? Did he follow you home?" She turned from Sherlock to John.

"Actually, we met at the park and then I followed him home." Sherlock tried to hide his smile.

There was a minutes silence until it seemed that Sally had given up.

"Freak's here" she said into her radio,"bringing him in." As they followed Sally inside, they ran into a sour looking man.

"Ah, Anderson. Here we are again."

"It's a crime scene. I don't want it contaminated. Are we clear on that?" warned Anderson.

"Quite clear. And is your wife away for long?" asked Sherlock.

"Oh, don't pretend you worked that out. Somebody told you that" said Anderson.

"Your deodorant told me that" said Sherlock as it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"My deodorant?"

"It's for men."

"Well, of course it's for men - I'm wearing it" said Anderson. John wanted to laugh.

"So's Sergeant Donovan. Ooh... I think it just vaporised. May I go in?" he asked and walked in. John limped after him.

"Whatever you're trying to imply..." the threat fell on deaf ears.

"I'm not implying anything. I'm sure Sally came round for a nice little chat, and just happened to stay over. And I assume she scrubbed your floors, going by the state of her knees" and Sherlock walked in.

"I would say sorry, but seriously?" asked John and he made to go in. Anderson stopped him.

"Who are you?"

John ignored him and just right in.

They made their way, Lestrade meeting them halfway, and after trying to get them into the proper attire for a crime scene, and failing, lead them to the body, telling them her information on the way up.

"Her name's Jennifer Wilson according to her credit cards, we're running them now for contact details. Hasn't been here long. Some kids found her." There was silence until Sherlock looked at Greg and said:" Shut up."

"I didn't say anything" said Greg.

"You were thinking. It's annoying" John wanted to laugh, during exam time at school, Sherlock would keep telling John to shut up: muttering under his breath his subjects.

_Sherlock was walking John home from school. John went to the local public school while Sherlock had to go to the private school up the road. Sherlock and John would always meet up and go to John's until eight when Mycroft would pick up Sherlock. _

_"Geography is around eight..." said John under his breath. _

_"Shut up" said Sherlock. John looked at him. _

_"What?" he asked. _

_"Shut up, you're constant muttering is getting irritating" said Sherlock, "we'll work out our exaam timetable when we get in, so we can plan when we will meet up."_

_John agreed but kept going over his table in his head. _

_"Shut up, you are thinking and it is annoying" said Sherlock. John burst out laughing. _

"Got anything?" asked Lestrade.

"Not much" answered Sherlock, as he felt the victims clothes and sniffed his fingers, he also checked her jewellery.

"She's German," said a voice at the door, John turned and saw Anderson leaning against the doorframe,"Rache. It's German for revenge. She could be trying to tell us something..." he would have continued but Sherlock had closed the door in his face.

"Yes, thank you for your input."

"So she's German?" asked Greg. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Of course she's not. She's from out of town though. Intended to stay in London for one night before returning home to Cardiff. So far, so obvious" said Sherlock, running down a list on his phone.

"Obvious?" asked John, Sherlock looked at him and smiled. Greg looked on in shock as Sherlock, without complaining about someone being an idiot, explained.

"Victim is in her late 30s. Professional person, going by her clothes - I'm guessing the media, going by the frankly alarming shade of pink. Travelled from Cardiff today intending to stay in London one night from the size of her suitcase."

"Suitcase?" asked Greg. Sherlock blinked at him.

"Yes. She's been married at least ten years, but not happily. She's had a string of lovers but none of them knew she was married."

"Oh, for God's sake, if you're just making this up..." began Greg.

"Her wedding ring. Ten years old at least. The rest of her jewellery has been regularly cleaned, but not her wedding ring. The inside is shinier than the outside. The only polishing it gets is when she works it off her finger. It's not for work, look at her nails. She doesn't work with her hands so who DOES she remove her rings for? Not ONE lover, she'd never sustain the fiction of being single for that long so more likely a string of them."

"What about the message though?" asked Greg.

"It's not a message, it's name" said Sherlock.

"Rachel?" asked John. Sherlock smiled and nodded.

"I would like for John to look at the body" said Sherlock.

"We have a whole team right outside" said Greg. He pointed to the closed door.

"I trust John" said Sherlock.

"I'm breaking every rule letting you in here..." began Greg.

"Yes...because you need me" answered Sherlock.

"Yes I do" said Greg, then he looked at John, "go for it."

John slowly lowered himself to the ground, taking gloves out of Sherlock' pocket as he did so. Greg stared as Sherlock didn't even try to stop him. Could they be together?

"Asphyxiation. Passed out, choked on her own vomit. Can't smell any alcohol on her. It could have been a seizure. Possibly drugs" said John, "the suicides."s. The fourth...?

"Sherlock - two minutes, I said, I need anything you got" said Greg from the door.

"I believe I have already explained all I can" said Sherlock.

"I do need the proof" said Greg. Sherlock got a look on his face. John knew that an insult followed by an mind breaking observation.

"Dear God, what is it like in your funny little brains, it must be so boring. Her coat - it's slightly damp, she's been in heavy rain the last few hours - no rain anywhere in London in that time. Under her coat collar is damp too. She's turned it up against the wind. She's got an umbrella in her pocket but it's dry and unused. Not just wind, strong wind - too strong to use her umbrella. We know from her suitcase that she was intending to stay overnight but she can't have travelled more than two or three hours because her coat still hasn't dried. So - where has there been heavy rain and strong wind within the radius of that travel time? Cardiff."

"Fantastic" said John, just realising how much he missed this.

"Do you know you do that out loud?" asked Greg.

"Sorry, I'll shut up" said John. Sherlock looked at John.

"It's fine" he said, "now we just need to get her suitcase."

"Why do you keep saying suitcase?" asked Greg.

"Yes, where is it? She must have had a phone or an organiser. Find out who Rachel is" asked Sherlock.

"How do you know she had a suitcase?" asked Greg.

"Tiny splash marks on her right heel and calf not present on the left. She was dragging a wheeled suitcase behind her with her right hand, by that splash pattern. Smallish case, going by the spread. Case that size, woman this clothes-conscious - could only be an overnight bag so we know she was staying one night. Where is it, what have you done with it?" asked Sherlock.

"There wasn't a case."

"Say that again."

"There wasn't a case. There was never any suitcase." Sherlock ran to the door, opened it, ignored Anderon and leaned over the banister.

"Suitcase! Did anyone find a suitcase? Was there a suitcase in this house?"

"Sherlock, there was no case!" yelled Greg. He and John stood beside Sherlock on the baniser, who know had a big grin on his face.

"But they take the poison themselves, swallow the pills. There are clear signs, even you lot couldn't miss them" said Sherlock.

"Right, thanks. And...?" asked Greg.

" It's murder, all of them. I don't know how. But they're not suicides, they're serial killings. We've got a serial killer. There's always something to look forward to" Sherlock started to run down the stairs but he stopped.

"Why are you saying that?" asked Greg.

"Her case! Come on, where is her case, did she eat it. Someone else was here, and they took her case. So the killer must have driven here. Forgot her case was in the car" said Sherlock.

"She could have checked into a hotel, left it there" argued John.

"No, look at her hair. She colour-coordinates her lipstick and her shoes. She'd never have left any hotel with her hair still looking... Oh... Oh!" Sherlock raised his finger in the air, his face showing happiness.

"Sherlock? What is it, what?" asked Greg.

"Serial killers, always hard. You have to wait for them to make a mistake" said Sherlock.

"We can't just wait!" yelled Greg.

"Don't then. Take John home! Then find Rachel!" yelled Sherlock as he ran out the house. Greg looked at John.

"C;mon on then" said Greg as he slowly walked down the stairs with John and climbed into his police cruiser.

(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)  
"So, what's your story?" Greg asked as he drove John home.

"My story?" asked John.

"Yeah, why does Sherlock Holmes seem to like you. I wanna hear it" said Greg. John sighed.

"We met as kids. I was reading a book at the park while my big sister played. Suddenly this boy comes up to me and tells me everything about myself" said John, "we sort of became friends after that."

"Where have you been, I mean, no one at Scotland Yard would expect Sherlock to have a Best Friend. He always seemed to ..." Greg didn't need to finish that sentence.

"Yeah, everyone at school thought it was weird as well. We went to different schools but we would always hang out after school. I was popular, sporty and such and everyone wanted to hang with me but I would always tell them that I was busy" said John, " as to where I have been? I was in the Army. As a doctor. I was shot and sent home."

"We are here" said Greg.

"Oh, see you later" said John as he opened the door, placed his cane on the ground before exiting the car.


	7. Study In Pink (2)

When Sherlock came home, trailing a pink suitcase after him, John was fast asleep on the couch. Sherlock smiled a little, covered John was a blanket Mrs Hudson kept around the flat, glared at the cane -swearing he would get rid of it, picked up John's phone and placed the case down, opened it and started to go through it.  
After an hour, in which Sherlock had texted the victims phone, recieved a phone call back and clean up a bit, John finally woke up. He groaned and looked over to see Sherlock holding John's coat, already in his coat and trademark scarf.  
"We're going out" said Sherlock.  
John struggled up, and took the coat.  
"Where?" he asked.  
"I texted the murderer, with your phone, and I have a feeling that he will turn up at a spot I sent. There's a good cafe with excellent view run by someone who owes me, you can get something to eat and I can work on my case" said Sherlock. He walked out, John followed him.  
"You used my phone?"

They walked to the cafe as it was only a few minutes away.  
"So what exactly did you say?" asked John. Sherlock looked at him.  
" 'What happened at Lauriston Gardens? I must have blacked -two Northumberland Street. Please come' " he recited.  
"Okay, tricking them, makes sense" said John.  
"And you found the suitcase" said John, remembering seeing the pink case before they left.  
"The killer must have driven her to Lauriston Gardens. He could only keep her case by accident if it was in the car. Nobody could be seen with this case without drawing attention – particularly a man, which is statistically more likely – so obviously he'd feel compelled to get rid of it the moment he noticed he still had it. Wouldn't have taken him more than five minutes to realise his mistake. I checked every back street wide enough for a car five minutes from Lauriston Gardens, I found it and went straight back to our flat" said Sherlock. John nodded. They arrived at the cafe. Sherlock walked in and took a seat right at the window. John sat down beside him.  
"Okay, so have you narrowed it down to a possible killer?" asked John.  
"It's very difficult. His hunting ground is right in the heart of the city. Now that we know his victims were abducted, that changes everything. Because all of his victims disappeared from busy streets, crowded places, but nobody saw them go. Who do we trust, even though we don't know them? Who passes unnoticed wherever they go? Who hunts in the middle of a crowd? These questions keep going around in my head, but I can't find the answer" said Shelock just as the cafe owner came running up.  
"Sherlock" Angelo said as he ran up to shake Sherlock's hand, "anything on the menu, whatever you want, free." Angelo lays the menus on the table.  
"On the house, for you and for your date" said Angelo. Sherlock looks at John. He smiles and shakes his head.  
"I'm not his date" said John. But Angelo ignored him and wrapped his arms around Sherlock.  
"This man got me off a murder charge" he said.  
"This is Angelo, Angelo this is John." Both men shake hands.  
"Three years ago I successfully proved to Lestrade at the time of a particularly vicious triple murder that Angelo was in a completely different part of town, house-breaking" informed Sherlock.  
"He cleared my name" said Angelo.  
"I cleared it a bit," corrected Sherlock, "Anything happening opposite?"  
"Nothing. But for this man, I'd have gone to prison" said Angelo. Sherlock looked at him.  
"You did go to prison" he said. Angelo stood up.  
"I'll get a candle for the table. It's more romantic" and Angelo walked away.  
"I'm not his date!"  
"And thus the viscous cycle begins all over again" muttered Sherlock, his eyes drifting over to across the road.  
"Why does everyone seem to think we're dating?" muttered John. Sherlock smiled. Angelo quickly placed the candle on the table.  
Soon enough, John was eating his meal while Sherlock kept up a light conversation and glanced out the window every minutes.  
"There" he said in the middle of a sentence, John stopped eating and looked at him.  
"A taxi has been sitting there for five minutes, no one getting in or out" said Sherlock, "why taxi, why?"  
"So the killer is in the cab?" asked John, placing his knife and fork down. Sherlock threw some money on the table and stood up, grabbing his coat. Heart pumping, John repeated.  
When John stood beside him on the pavement, Sherlock glanced down and could've done a dance. The cane was left in the cafe, and John had not even noticed!  
The taxi drove off. Sherlock began to run, John a foot behind him.


	8. Study In Pink (3)

Both of them ran through London, chasing a cab through the use of a map Sherlock had memorised as a child. They jumped over buildings and up and down lots of stairs. After many close calls when the cab, they eventually caught it, and Sherlock immediately started to whack it with his hand.

"Police! Open her up" he commanded as he reached the passenger door, and wretched it open.

His face fell.

"No...Teeth, tan. What - Californian...? LA, Santa Monica. Just arrived."

"Explain" said John, standing beside Sherlock

"The luggage" said Sherlock, "Probably your first trip to London, right? Going by your final destination and the cabbie's route."

"Sorry - are you guys the police?" asked the man.

"Yeah. Everything all right?" asked Sherlock.

"Yeah" nodded the man. Sherlock thought for a moment.

"Welcome to London" he said and he ran off.

"Er, any problems - just let us know" said John and he walked to where Sherlock stood.

"Basically just a cab that happened to slow down" he said to the taller man.

"Basically" confirmed Sherlock, both men looked over to the cab to see passenger talking to the actually police.

"Not the murderer" said John, they kept watching the police, who kept glancing in their direction.

"Not the murderer, no."

"Wrong country, good alibi."

"As they go."

"Still nicking stuff when people are being annoying?" teased John

"Yeah" laughed Sherlock, the policeman started to walk over to them, "got your breath back?"

"Ready when you are" said John and they ran away.

(*SHERLOCK - BEST FRIENDS)

_John lay on Sherlock's bed, head hanging over the side as he watched the boy himself work on yet another experiment. _

_"So what is this experiment about?" asked John.  
_

_"How long it takes for a maths book to burn" replied Sherlock. _

_"Are you burning your homework again?" asked John, sitting upright. _

_"The teacher no longer accepts the dog ate it. Redbeard enjoys it" said Sherlock. John shook his head and lay back down. _

_He saw that Sherlock had hidden something under his draws, he rolled off the bed, and reached under the draws. _

_John pulled out Mycroft's black umbrella.  
_

_"Sherlock" called John. _

_Sherlock hummed. _

_"Why do you have Mycroft's umbrella?" asked John. _

_"He was annoying me" said Sherlock, "kept trying to make me eat."_

(*SHERLOCK-BEST FRIENDS*)

Sherlock ran through the front door of 221, laughing.

"OK...That was ridiculous. That was the most ridiculous thing...I've ever done" gasped John as he hung his jacket up. Sherlock hung his on the banister and both leaned on the wall. .

"And you invaded Afghanistan" laughed Sherlock.

"That wasn't just me. Why aren't we back at the restaurant?"

"They can keep an eye out. It was a long shot anyway."

"So what were we doing there?"

"Oh, just passing the time. And proving a point" smiled Sherlock.

"What point?" John asked, confused.

"You" Sherlock looked at John.

"What point?"

"Ask the man at the door" said Sherlock as there was a knock at the door.

"I hate it when you do that" said John as he pushed himself off the wall and answered the door. Angelo stood there.

"Sherlock texted me" he laughed, "he said you forgot this." And he handed John his cane.

John took the cane and stared at Sherlock, his eyes wide.

Sherlock was talking to a distressed Mrs Hudson. He glanced at John, and ran upstairs.

"Thank you" John said to Angelo, before closing the door and running up the stairs

"What are you doing?" he heard Sherlock ask as he arrived in the flat to see it crowded with police.

"Well, I knew you'd find the case, I'm not stupid" said Greg as he sat in Sherlock's chair. He pointed to the pink case.

"You can't just break into my flat" argued Sherlock.

"You can't withhold evidence - and I didn't break in" said Lestrade as he held up a piece of paper.

"It's a drugs bust."

"Seriously? This guy ..." began John. He saw that Greg was about to interrupt and quickly talked.

"You could search this flat all day, you wouldn't find anything you could call recreational."

"On the bathtub there is a lose tile, he hides it there, checked it this morning. It's clear."

"Why would we believe that?" asked Greg, his face puzzled.

"Shut up! I'm not your sniffer dog" yelled Sherlock.

"Anderson's my sniffer dog" said Greg as if it were obvious. Said man's head appeared from the kitchen. To say Sherlock was furious would be an understatment.

"Anderson, what are YOU doing here on a drugs bust?"

"Oh, I volunteered" sneered Anderson.

"They all did. They're not strictly speaking ON the drug squad, but they're very keen" said Greg. Anderson smirked.

"Are these human eyes?" asked Sally, holding a bag of eyes.

"Put those back!" John grabbed the bag and put it back in the microwave.

"It's an experiment." Greg saw that Sherlock was slowly getting angrier, so he moved it onto the case.

"We're a team" he said. Sherlock glared at him.

"This is childish" Sherlock sulked.

"Well, I'm dealing with a child. Sherlock, this is our case. I'm letting you in, but you do not go off on your own. Clear? We work together" said Greg, standing up.

"What - so you set up a pretend drugs bust to bully me?" said Sherlock. John sat down.

"No, to make you realise that you don't work on your own" said Greg.

"I work with John" said Sherlock. There was a hush on the flat as everyone looked at John. Who was staring at his leg?

"So we all work together. We've found Rachel."

"Who is she?" asked Sherlock.


	9. Study In Pink (4)

"She was Jennifer Wilson's only daughter" said Greg.

"Her daughter?" asked Sherlock, Greg nodded, "why would she write her daughter's name? Why?"

"Never mind that," yelled Anderson from the kitchen, "we found the case. According to someone the murderer has the case, and we found it in the hands of our favourite psychopath."

John fought down a laugh, everytime someone called Sherlock a psychopath, he always had to correct them, and he always had a different way of telling them.

"I'm a high-functioning sociopath" winked Sherlock, "do your research. You need to bring Rachel in and I need to question her." John foundit amazing that Sherlock went from fun to professional in one breath.

"She's dead" said Greg.

"Excellent. How, when and why? Is there a connection? There has to be" muttered Sherlock.

"Well, I doubt it, since she's been dead for 14 years. Technically she was never alive. Rachel was Jennifer Wilson's stillborn daughter, 14 years ago" informed Greg.

"No, that's...that's not right. How...Why would she do that? Why?" Sherlock had started whispering.

"Why would she think of her daughter in her last moments?" said Anderson. "Yup - sociopath, I'm seeing it now."

"She didn't think about her daughter. She scratched her name on the floor with her fingernails. She was dying. It took effort, it would have hurt" said Sherlock, facing Anderson. John stood up and walked over to Sherlock.

"You said that the victims all took the poison themselves, that he makes them take it - well, maybe he...I don't know, talks to them. Maybe he used the death of her daughter somehow" said John. Sherlock looked at him and considered the possibility.

"Yeah, but that was ages ago. Why would she still be upset?" he asked.

A silence filled room, even Sherlock picked up on it. He turned to John.

"Not good?" he whispered. John only sighed. He was used to it and he wasn't sure if it was a good thing or not.

"We have talked about this, numerous times" he sighed. Sherlock only rolled his eyes and decided on his train of thought.

"If you were dying... If you'd been murdered - in your very last few seconds what would you say?" he asked John, looking right into his eyes.

"Please, God, let me live."

"Use your imagination!"

"I don't have to."

Another silence filled the room. Many people filed that information away, they were all trying to figure out who this man who had wandered into Sherlock's life and knew all about him, most of it not even Greg knew.

"We'll discuss that later" warned Sherlock before he turned back to Greg,"however Jennifer Wilson running all those lovers - she WAS clever. She's trying to tell us something." Sherlock started to pace and John moved to stand beside Greg to get out of the way. Mrs Hudson came running upstairs.

"Isn't the doorbell working? Your taxi's here, Sherlock" she said. John tried to remember when he had the door bell go, and he couldn't think of it. Maybe it was actually broken. Or maybe he was caught up in the excitement.

"I didn't order a taxi. Go away" grunted Sherlock. Then he went still.

" Shut up, everybody! Don't speak, don't breathe. I'm trying to think. Anderson, face the other way. You're putting me off" he yelled. John nearly laughed at the last comment, he must really dislike Anderson.

"What? My face is?" asked Anderson.

"Everybody quiet and still. Anderson, turn your back" ordered Greg. He, like John, could see that Sherlock was onto something.

"Oh, for God's sake!" grumbled Anderson.

"Your back, now, please!"

"Come on, think. Quick!" muttered Sherlock, pressing his finger into his temples.

"What about your taxi?" asked Mrs Hudson.

"Mrs Hudson!" yelled Sherlock, "oh... Ah! She was clever. Clever, yes! She's cleverer than you lot and she's dead. Do you see, do you get it? She didn't lose her phone, she never lost it. She planted it on him. When she got out of the car, she knew that she was going to her death. She left the phone in order to lead us to her killer." Sherlock ran to his computer (John saw that it was actually his computer but let it slide) and started to type.

"Wha..?" asked Greg.

"What do you mean? Rachel! Don't you see? Rachel! Oh... Look at you lot. You're all so vacant. Is it nice not being me? It must be so relaxing. Rachel is not a name" said Sherlock as he continued to type.

"Then what is it?" John asked.

"John - on the luggage, there's a label. E-mail address." John made his way to the luggage, sat down on his chair and lifted the tab with the tab with the email on it. He read it out. Sherlock then started to explain.

"She didn't have a laptop, which means she did her business on her phone. A smartphone, it's e-mail enabled. So there was a website for her account. The username is her e-mail address - and all together, the password is?"

"Rachel" finished Anderson, "so we can read her e-mails. So what?"

"Anderson, don't talk out loud. You lower the IQ of the whole street. We can do much more than that. It's a smartphone, it's got GPS. Which means if you lose it you can locate it online. She's leading us directly to the man who killed her."

"Unless he got rid of it" said Greg.

"We know he didn't" said John as he made his way over to the desk.

"Come on, come on. Quickly!" muttered Sherlock as they waited for the laptop to load.

"Sherlock, dear. This taxi driver..." began Mrs Hudson.

"Mrs. Hudson, isn't it time for your evening soother? Get vehicles, get a helicopter. This phone battery won't last for ever" Sherlock said, first to Mrs Hudson then to Greg. He stood up and started to pace again. John took his set.

"We'll just have a map reference, not a name" said Greg.

"It's a start!"

"Sherlock..." muttered John.

"Narrows it down from just anyone in London. It's the first proper lead that we've had" said Sherlock.

"Sherlock..."

"Where is it? Quickly, where?" asked Sherlock, leaning over John's shoulder.

"Here. It's...in 221 Baker Street."

"How can it be here? How?" Sherlock backed away from the computer, feeling confused. His mind foggy as he tried to wrap his head around it.

"Maybe it was in the case when you brought it back and it...fell out somewhere" said Greg as he glanced around the floor.

"What, and I didn't notice it? Me - I didn't notice?" asked Sherlock, running his hands through his hair, lightly pulling.

"Anyway, we texted him and he called back" said John.

"Guys, we're also looking for a mobile somewhere here, belonged to the victim..." called Greg to the team.

Sherlock's mind cleared as it all became clear. A man stood at the top of the stairs and Sherlock saw a flash of pink. The man in the shadows turned and walked down the stairs. Sherlock stared after him.

"Sherlock, you OK? What...?" asked John, noticing his friend's change in behaviour.

"Yeah, yeah... I'm fine."

"So, how can the phone be here?"

"I have a theory" said Sherlock as he started to head towards the stairs.

"I'll try it again" said John, pulling the mobile from his pocket.

"Good idea."

"Where are you going?"

"I have a taxi to catch. Send me a bullet later" said Sherlock as he disappeared downstairs, grabbing his coat on the way.


	10. Study in Pink (5)

Grabbing his coat as he left, Sherlock stood in front of the taxi driver as he played about the pink phone.

"Taxi for Sherlock Holmes" said the cabbie, as he looked up at Sherlock through his eyelashes.

"I didn't order a taxi."

"Doesn't mean you don't need one" replied the cabbie. He threw the phone through the open window of the taxi - causing it to land on the passenger seat - and he leaned back into the black cab.

"You're the cabbie" said Sherlock, ignoring the wind lightly pulling at his coat, "the one who stopped outside Northumberland Street. It was you. Not your passenger."

The cabbie clapped.

"See?" he nodded, "no-one ever thinks about the cabbie. It's like you're invisible. Just the back of an 'ead. Proper advantage for a serial killer."

"Is this a confession?" asked Sherlock.

"Oh, yeah. I'll tell you what else... If you call the coppers now, I won't run. I'll sit quiet and they can take me down, I promise" chucked the cabbie.

"Why?" asked Sherlock.

"Cos you're not going to do that" grunted the cabbie as he stood away from his cab, opened the back door, and smirked at Sherlock.

"Am I not?" asked Sherlock, an eyebrow raised at the open door.

2I didn't kill those four people, Mr. Holmes. I spoke to 'em...and they killed themselves. If you get the coppers now, I'll promise you one thing. I will never tell you what I said."

"No-one else will die, though, and I believe they call that a result" said Sherlock, raising his chin.

"And you won't ever understand how those people died. What kind of result do you care about?"

"If I wanted to understand...would I have to go with you?" asked Sherlock.

"Just for a little ride" replied the cabbie.

"So you can kill me too?" asked Sherlock.

"I don't want to kill you, Mr Holmes, I'm gonna to talk to you, and then you're going to kill yourself" said the cabbie, he took a step away from the cab, allowing Sherlock to get in, and he slammed the door and jogged to the drivers seat, and drove away. Sherlock looked up at the face looking out from the window of 221B Baker Street.

*SHERLOCK - BEST FRIENDS*

"He just got in a cab...It's Sherlock. He just drove off in a cab" wondered John, as he held the phone away from his ear.

"We're wasting our time!" yelled Sally as she marched out the flat.

"I'm...calling the phone, it's ringing out" John said to Greg.

"And if it's ringing, it's not here" said Greg, with a deep sigh and he ran his hand across his forehead.

"He's just a lunatic, and he'll always let you down. And you're wasting your time. All our time" said Anderson as he followed in Sally's footsteps and left.

Greg and John shared a look.

"What did he mean? About his last comment?" asked Greg.

"What do you mean?" asked John, glancing down at his phone again.

" 'Send me a bullet later' ?" asked Greg.

John eyes went wide.

"It's a friend thing, when we were younger, Sherlock's mum gave us toy guns and to let each other know we weren't safe, we would fire a small ball into the air, we called them bullets as a joke" said John. Greg frowned, before his phone went off and he had to leave. John quickly grab the laptop, his coat and ran outside.

*SHERLOCK-BEST FRIENDS*

"How did you find me?" asked Sherlock.

"Oh, I recognised ya. Soon as I saw you chasing my cab. Sherlock Holmes! I was warned about you. I've been on your website, too. Brilliant stuff! Loved it" flattered the Cabbie. Sherlock stared out the window.

"Who warned you about me?" asked Sherlock.

"Your fan" answered the cabbie.

"Fan? I don't have fans" said Sherlock.

"They claim to be your number one fan" said the cabbie as the pulled up to twin buildings.

"Where are we?" asked Sherlock as the cabbie climbed out the cab and made his way to Sherlock's door.

"You know every street in London. You know exactly where we are" said the cabbie as he opened the door.

"Roland-Kerr Further Education College. Why here?"

"It's open. Nobody's in. One thing about being a cabbe is that you always know the quiet spots. Good for a murder, we should make it into a business" said the cabbie.

"And you just walk your victims in?" and the cabbie pulled out a gun, "dull."

"Don't worry. It gets better" promised the cabbie.

Sighing dramatically, Sherlock got out the cab and followed the cabbie.

"What do you think, after all, you are going to die here" said the cabbie.

"No, I'm not" answered Sherlock as the walked along corridors and into a classroom.

"That is what they all say, time to talk?" asked the cabbie as he pulled out a chair and took a seat, and left the gun lying before him on the table.

"Bit risky, wasn't it? Took me away under the eye of about half a dozen policemen. They're not that stupid. And Mrs. Hudson will remember you."

"You call that a risk? Nah...THIS is a risk. Oh, I like this bit. Cos you don't get it yet, do ya? But you're about to. I just have to do this... Weren't expecting that, were ya? Oh, you're going to love this."

SH: Love what?

Cabbie: Sherlock Holmes! Look at you! Here in the flesh. That website of yours! You are brilliant. You are a proper genius. The Science of Deduction. Now, that...is proper thinking. Between you and me sitting here, why can't people think? Don't it make you mad? Why can't people just think?"

"You a proper genius too" said Sherlock.

"Don't look it, do I? Funny little man driving a cab. But you'll know better in a minute. Chances are it'll be the last thing you EVER know." And he pulled two bottles from his pocket, an identical pill inside both of them.

"Two bottles. Explain" ordered Sherlock.

"There's a good bottle and a bad bottle. You take the pill from the good bottle, you live. You take the pill from the bad bottle...you die."

"And you know which is which?" asked Sherlock.

"Of course I know" smiled the cabbie.

"But I don't."

"Wouldn't be a game if you knew. You're the one who chooses" said the cabbie as he leaned back in his chair, and put his hands behind his head.

"WHy should I?" asked Sherlock, "what's in it for me?"

"I haven't told you the best bit yet. Whatever bottle YOU choose, I take the pill from the other one. And then together...we take our medicine. I won't cheat. It's your choice. I'll take whatever pill you don't. Didn't expect that, did you, Mr. Holmes?"

"This is what you did to the rest of them - you gave them a choice?"

"And now I'm giving you one. You take your time. Get yourself together. I want your best game." the cabbie leaned forward onto the desk.

"It's not a game, it's chance" argued Sherlock. He, too, leaned forward onto the desk.

"I've played four times. I'm alive. It's not chance, Mr. Holmes, it's chess. It's a game of chess, with one move...and one survivor. And this - this...is the move. Did I just give you the good bottle or the bad bottle? You can choose either one."

*SHERLOCK-BEST FRIENDS*

"No, Detective Inspector Lestrade - I need to speak to him. It's important. It's an emergency. Er, left here, please. Left here..." said John, and he held his phone between his ear and shoulder, his laptop in his arms.

And a gun tucked into the back of his jeans.

*SHERLOCK - BEST FRIENDS*

"You ready yet, Mr. Holmes? Ready to play?" taunted the cabbie.

"Play what?" asked Sherlock, " it's a 50:50 chance!"

"You're not playing the numbers, you're playing ME. Did I just give you the good pill or the bad pill? Is it a bluff, or a double bluff? Or a triple bluff?"

"It's still just chance."

"Four people, in a row, it's not chance" said the cabbie.

"Luck" muttered Sherlock.

"It's genius!" yelled the cabbie,"I know how people think. I know how people think I think. I can see it all like a map inside my head. Everyone's so stupid, even you. Or maybe God just loves me."

"Either way, you're wasted as a cabbie. So...You risked your life four times just to kill strangers? Why?" Sherlock clasped his hands under his chin and peered at the cabbie.

"Time to play."

"Oh, I am playing. This is my turn. There's shaving foam behind your left ear. Nobody's pointed it out to you. Traces of where it's happened before, so obviously you live on your own - there's no-one to tell you. But there's a photograph of children. Their mother's been cut out. If she'd died, she'd still be there. The photograph's old, but the frame's new. You think of your children, but you don't get to see them. Estranged father. She took the kids, but you still love them and it still hurts. Ah, but there's more. Your clothes. Recently laundered, but everything you're wearing is at least...three years old? Keeping up appearances, but not planning ahead. And here you are on a kamikaze murder spree. What's that about? Ah...Three years ago. Is that when they told you?"

"Told me what?"

"That you're a dead man walking."

"So are you."

"You don't have long, though. Am I right?"

"Aneurism. Right in 'ere. Any breath could be my last."

"And because you're dying, you've just murdered four people."

"I've outlived four people. That's the most fun you can have with an aneurism."

"No... No, there's something else. You didn't just kill four people because you're bitter. Bitterness is a paralytic. Love is a much more vicious motivator. Somehow, this is about your children."

"Oh...You are good" said the cabbie, raising an eyebrow and leaning back in his chair.

"But how?" Sherlock leaned back in his chair and he drummed his fingers on the desk.

"When I die they won't get much, my kids. Not a lot of money in driving cabs" explained the cabbie.

"Or serial killing."

"You'd be surprised."

"Surprise me."

"I have a sponsor."

"You have a ... what?" asked Sherlock.

"For every life I take, money goes to my kids. The more I kill...the better off they'll be. You see? It's nicer than you think."

"Who'd sponsor a serial killer?"

"Who'd be a fan of Sherlock Holmes? You're not the only one to enjoy a good murder. There's others out there just like you, except you're just a man. And they're so much more than that" said the cabbie, a smile on his face.

"An organisation...?"

"There's a name, that no-one says. And I'm not going to say it either. Now, enough chatter. Time to choose."

*SHERLOCK - BEST FRIENDS*

The taxi holding John stopped and John ran out, throwing money into the cab, laptop under his arm, running into one of the buildings.

*SHERLOCK - BEST FRIENDS*

"What if I don't choose either? I could just walk out of here" smiled Sherlock.

"You can take a 50:50 chance, or I can shoot you in the head. Funnily enough, no-one's ever gone for that option" said the cabbie, raising the gun to Sherlock's head, right between his eyes.

"I'll have the gun, please."

"Are you sure?"

"Definitely. The gun."

"You don't want to phone a friend?" asked the cabbie.

"John would tell me to go with the gun" said Sherlock.

The cabbie fired, and a small flame apppeared. Sherlock smirked.

"Would this John want you to be shot?" asked the cabbie.

"Actually, John and I both can tell a real gun from a fake gun. And if anyone tries to hurt me, they get hurt by him. And that is a warning" said Sherlock. The cabbie laughed.

"He has no idea where we are" said the cabbie.

"Which one's the good bottle?" taunted the cabbie, reminding Sherlock of why they were there.

"Course" shrugged Sherlock, "it was child's play."

"Well, which one, then? Which one would you have picked? Just so I know whether I could have beaten you. Come on! Play the game. Oh! Interesting. So what do you think? Shall we? Really... What do you think? Can you beat me? Are you clever enough...to bet your life?" WHile he was talking, Sherlock grabbed a bottle and took the pill out, holding it between two fingers. The cabbie stood, and took the other pill.

"I bet you get bored, don't you? I know you do. A man like you. So clever. But what's the point of being clever if you can't prove it? Still the addict. But this...this is what you're really addicted to. You'll do anything...anything at all, to stop being bored. You're not bored now, are ya? Isn't it good?" And then the cabbie goes flying back, a gun shot echoing through Sherlock's ears and a hold in the cabbie's shoulder. Sherlock throws away the pill and leans over the cabbie.

"Was I right?"asked Sherlock,"OK... Tell me this. Your sponsor. Who was it? The one who told you about me, my fan. I want a name." The cabbie shook his head so Sherlock pushed down on the cabbie's wound.

"You're dying, but there is still time to hurt you. A name!"

"MORIARTY!" screamed the cabbie, as he breathed his last, and died.

Sherlock removed his leg just as the sound of police sirens were heard.

"Well, I did warn you."


End file.
